


A Templar's Trust

by Musicalrain



Series: A Templar's Series [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Relationship, Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford-centric, Cutesy, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Good Templars (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Light Angst, Lyrium Addiction, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Minor Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, POV Hawke (Dragon Age), Short & Sweet, Some Humor, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicalrain/pseuds/Musicalrain
Summary: Hawke notices Cullen struggling after Adamant, and decides to help.Sequel to A Templar's Heart.Inspired by Dark_Hunter's comment on the first in this series.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Original Female Character(s), Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Series: A Templar's Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613812
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	A Templar's Trust

Cullen looks like utter bronto shit.

And Hawke didn’t even think it had to do with the whole Adamant thing. 

Sure she’s taking a breather before heading out to Weisshaupt, Maker knows how long _that’ll_ take, but Cullen looks worse since that whole fiasco with the Wardens, if possible.

Hawke is frowning to herself, watching the unnecessarily extravagant back of his cloak as he makes his way off the training grounds. Perched on the ramparts as she is, she simply walks around until she can spy a little more obviously at him as he starts to trek up the stone stair toward his office.

She’s concerned, alright? The spying is justified. She never said she was good at spying, just that… it’s needed, if only to soothe her conscious. She owes him; he had her back in Kirkwall. If he’s under the weather, she ought to know.

He pauses on the stair before he gets too close to a couple guards standing near his office. She watches as he raises his hands to his temples, and she can spy his hands shaking even at her distance.

Well, shit.

* * *

She commiserates with Varric, who informs her none-too-gently that the Inquisitor is a _little_ protective of their Commander, and if she had concerns, she’d better bring it up with her if she didn’t want to approach Curly directly.

_Ugh_.

It’s not that Hawke _dislikes_ the Inquisitor, per se, as she’s done a lot for mages in the wake of the Conclave (go mages!), but that she’s just so… difficult. She’s every ounce as stubborn as the most stubborn of her friends (see: all of them), but on top of that, she’s just too _impersonal_ for Hawke’s tastes. She wasn’t even amusingly cranky, like Fenris or Anders.

Hawke’s never seen her smile. She’s never cracked a joke, and she doesn’t do small-talk.

Which, okay, they were dealing with some horrid things in Adamant, and the Inquisition is a serious thing and all, but she didn’t get the sense that she was very _friendly_. 

She figures someone has to be nice to be doing all these nice things for Thedas, right?

Apparently not.

* * *

The Inquisitor _looks_ warm and approachable, but Hawke knows from her few encounters with the woman, that she’s… not so much.

If Hawke was feeling poetic, she’d describe Inquisitor Lavellan with a complexion the color of warm bronze, a vallaslin as graceful as any halla’s horns, sunkissed chestnut hair, and eyes invoking thoughts of a bright summer’s day. She’s _not_ ; that’s totally Varric narrating there. Hawke is a happily married woman thankyouverymuch. Sure, she can appreciate her natural grace and beauty, _who wouldn’t_ , but she brings out too much disquiet in Hawke for her to feel comfortable dwelling on her aesthetically for longer than a _oh, she’s pretty._

“Hi there Inquisitor,” Hawke says gamely, and said Inquisitor looks up from the document she was reading at her desk to narrow her eyes at the mage.

Hawke didn’t knock, and thinking back on it, maybe she should have.

“Er,” Hawke hooks a thumb over her shoulder, pointing toward the door, “Do you want me to knock?”

The Inquisitor makes a quiet _tsk_ ing noise, and sits up in her chair. She waves a hand toward the free chair before her. “You may take a seat, Champion.”

“Er, thanks.”

Hawke sits primly in her seat, hands fidgeting in her lap. _Why_ did she listen to Varric again?

The Inquisitor looks at her evenly all the while Hawke tries and fails to start speaking, blue eyes never leaving her face, and frankly freaking her a bit out.

“Um,” she starts, stops, and tries again. “I hear you’re protective of Cullen.” _Why?_ She wanted to say something else, but Varric’s words were stuck in her head.

The imposing Inquisitor, not in height, but in sheer _presence_ , narrows her eyes again. “I was very good at protecting my clan, before, and now I’m very good at keeping an eye on the Inquisition and its members.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Hawke scratches at the back of her neck. She’s starting to _sweat_. “I’m bringing up Cullen because… because he’s my friend too, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him too.” There. That almost gets her point across.

The Inquisitor’s expression doesn’t change much, but Hawke get’s the _go on_ vibe anyway. “Um,” she shifts her weight in her chair. “I know a little bit about Templars?” Why does that sound like a question? “My wife’s one, or, was one. Point is, I can tell Cullen’s not taking lyrium, and he’s getting sick from it. Same thing happened to my honeybun when she was getting off the stuff.”

Her expression hardens, and Hawke is honestly a wee bit afraid when the Inquisitor stands thunderously from her desk.

“You will come with me to see the Commander. Now.”

* * *

The lady Seeker decides to join their little entourage to Cullen’s office, and she’s sure the three of them look suitably capable and intimidating (maybe just the Inquisitor and the Seeker, really) as they make their way toward Cullen and his problems.

They pretty much blindside Cullen, even though the Seeker apparently knew he was trying to get off the awful blue stuff. 

The two powerhouses of the Inquisition start discussing what to do while Cullen looks utterly miserable behind his desk. Hawke none-so-gracefully sneaks toward him and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Having a lot of support and people looking out for you is a good thing, even though I’m sure it seems like we’re all being terrible busybodies right now.”

He snorts, and wearily rubs at his sweaty forehead.

“I helped my honeybun through the withdraws, you know. I could give you some tips,” she offers with a friendly smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, remembering, if only briefly, those difficult times.

He looks at her quizzically then. “That woman you’d taken a shine to… she _was_ a Templar afterall.”

“Yep,” Hawke pops the _‘p’_. “Ser Cedra, formerly of Padmal, and before that, she was stationed at the Starkhaven Circle.”

He frowns. “No one ever said.”

“Can you blame us?” She quirks a brow. “Cedra was trying to leave that life behind; she’d been trying to get off lyrium for quite awhile before I met her.”

“She abandoned her duty.”

Hawke shrugs, leaning a hip against his desk. “Aveline helped, you know. Her first husband was a Templar.”

He sighs, and seems to deflate. “There were rumors… rumors that a foreign Templar shirked their duty, but avoided being addled. Not like…” He doesn’t say _Samson_ , but she hears it.

“I didn’t want her to end up like that.”

“That was for the best,” he says wearily. He looks at her then, “What do you think?”

“I think,” Hawke smiles gently. “That you’ve got this in the bag, Cullen.”

* * *

Hawke ends up sticking around long enough for her ideas about Weisshaupt to seem further and further away, and more and more ridiculous.

She should go home, honestly. The Inquisition can definitely handle informing the Wardens about the shitstorm that befell their Southern brothers.

She misses her honeybun, and her other assorted little sweets.

As if her thoughts summoned her, though she’s _fairly_ certain her honeybun isn’t a demon, Hawke turns toward a commotion near the gates to spot a familiar pissed-off face.

“Sweetums!” She cries and skips towards the gates where a stablehand is trying to reign in a rather upset horse while her wife stomps around just as angrily. It brings a smile to Hawke’s face. Something’s probably wrong with her, to see her after all this time, angry, but still think her glaringly _adorable_.

When she gets within hugging distance, Cedra puts her hands up to stop her short. Hawke’s body jolts, and she pouts rather dramatically. “I missed you honeybun,” she says with her biggest puppy-dog eyes.

Her wife’s lips twitch, and Hawke mentally _crows_.

“ _A month_ ,” she starts, and Hawke winces. “You said you were helping a friend out with something ‘messy’,” she can hear the air-quotes. “Not that you were _helping the Inquisition!_ ”

“I’m _so_ sorry, Sweetums,” Hawke’s shoulders slump. “It _was_ messy! And I didn’t want you to worry-”

“Varric wrote me,” Hawke gulps. “He told me you could have _died_! That you nearly sacrificed yourself, and _left us_! How do you think that made me feel? To have heard that you nearly turned yourself into a _legend_! Someone to be remembered!”

Hawke’s expression shutters, her happiness dying out. “What’s happening here is worse than anything we’ve ever faced before, and only the _Inquisitor_ can stop it.”

“I know,” her voice is softer, still angry, but more frustrated than anything else. “I wish you wouldn’t try to martyr yourself for your convictions. _I_ need you. _We_ need you. Thedas doesn’t have to come before your family.”

“You love me for my convictions,” Hawke tries to smile, but it falls flat. She reaches out for her wife, and she lets her grasp onto her small, gloved hand; a small boon. “And I love our family. I love _you_ ; I wouldn’t risk my life if I’d thought there was any other way.”

“Yes you would,” there are tears in her wife’s eyes, and her voice is watery. “You’re too damned heroic for your own good.”

“Come here honeybun,” Hawke reels her into her chest, and cradles her while she cries into her shoulder.

Damn. But doesn’t she feel like nug crap.

* * *

“How’s our half-dozen sweets?” Hawke asks, cuddling her wife on a bench in the garden some time later, after more words were said and reunions made not _exactly_ happy, but right, for them.

She doesn’t move her head from Hawke’s robe-clad shoulder when she asks, “Are you including the mabari?”

“Of course I’m including Treacle Tart!” Hawke gasps in mock offense, and she feels her wife’s quiet laughter against her chest.

“Treacle’s as good as a retired warhound can be,” she sighs. “Bodahn and Orana have their hands full; before I’d left, Walter’d gotten that delivery boy job.”

“Oh, Maker,” Hawke shakes her head. “Once Kirkwall’s a little more settled, we can move back to the mansion, and then he won’t have to work.”

“He’d still want to work; he values his independence, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Hawke’s expression softens into a look she’s been wearing more and more since Cedra came into her life; the one now reserved for the people, and mabari, she loves. “He’s a good kid.”

“Definitely.”

Hawke watches as surprisingly Cullen and someone from the Inquisitor’s inner circle set up at a chessboard on the other side of the garden. 

Hawke’s happy to see he looks better today; there’s more color in his cheeks and his gait looks more steady. She hopes that means the sleeping drought and herb powder she gave him for his nausea worked.

“Is that Ser Cullen?” Cedra asks after a moment.

Hawke laughs softly, happily. “Yes, but he’s the Commander here.”

“Ah.” Cedra’s quiet for so long, Hawke doesn’t think she’ll say anything else until, “He’s left the Order?”

“He’s weaning himself off lyrium,” Hawke adds quietly, so as to not spread the Commander’s business around to anyone happening by them. 

“Hmm,” she’s quiet again, until she decides. “Perhaps I should have a talk with him, then.”

Hawke squeezes her a little closer, and feels a smile creeping up her face born of a mixture of pride and happiness. “That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

* * *

“What’s that goofy face for?” Hawke asks her wife with an amused twitch of her lips.

“Nothing,” Cedra fails to straighten out her expression. “I’d just had an _enlightening_ conversation with Commander Cullen.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Hawke pats the end of the cot she’s perched on eagerly. “Leave in all the juicy bits.”

Cedra laughs, and kisses her cheek as she settles beside her. “He doesn’t need any encouragement to stay off lyrium; he’s _very_ convicted. Trusts the _Inquisitor_ implicitly to keep an _eye_ on him and help him through this transition.”

“Wait,” Hawke gasps gleefully, “Are you… are you _wagging your eyebrows_?!” Hawke pauses, and her eyes go wide as realization hits her. “The _Inquisitor_ and _Cullen_?! Ew!”

Cedra laughs hard enough that her entire body shakes, and then she swats her wife on the thigh. “Why ‘ew’? It’s sweet!” Her lips twitch, “He’d called her by her given name and blushed scarlet! Then he’d proceeded to stutter his way through an explanation about their _close_ friendship. It was quite amusing.”

“You’re evil,” Hawke grins wide. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Yes, love,” she kisses her more firmly that time. She frames her face with her hands and looks at her with such blatant _love_ that Hawke’s breath catches in her throat. “I think we’ll all be alright.”

  
And Hawke believes that Cedra’s right; the people of Thedas are strong. They’ve got this, no matter if it’s a fight against lyrium or the end of times - _they’ve got this in the bag._

**Author's Note:**

> and then Hawke reunited with her whole family and the Inquisitor did her thing ;)


End file.
